


above all, plant me in your heart

by eudaimon



Category: Sense8 (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-22
Updated: 2015-12-22
Packaged: 2018-05-08 12:38:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5497364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eudaimon/pseuds/eudaimon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They have to stay one step ahead, so they pass him from hand to hand.  Kala and Wolfgang steal a moment to talk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	above all, plant me in your heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nokomis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nokomis/gifts).



> Happy Yuletide!

They can't let him wake up after that, not when Mr Whispers can come and go at will. Suddenly, the world seems much smaller than it did before. It seems implausible that they could still have so far to go. They're working on staying one step ahead. They get him as far as Berlin. They have to stop there, for a while, figure out what the next step is going to be. While they regroup, they take turns staying with him, keeping him under, comforting him when they can. It can't always be Riley – she never leaves the room, sure, but Iceland left her exhausted, cut close to the bone, and she needs to sleep to heal.

So Riley drifts in and out, and the rest of them come and go when they can.

Without opening her eyes, Riley knows when it's Sun because she can barely hear her speaking. Through half closed eyes, she watches as Sun sits cross-legged at the head of the bed, gently touching Will's hair with the tips of her fingers, singing under her breath, lullabies that her mother used to sing to her when she was too small to comfort herself. 

When it's Capheus, he tells long, involved stories, moving the air with his hands. He laughs a lot and Riley finds herself smiling as she slips in and out to the sing-song of his accented English, his beautiful voice. 

Lito is quieter, lies on his side on the bed, his hand resting low on Will's belly; he whispers, so Riley never catches what he says, but she watches the way that his thumb strokes against Will's skin and she feels a flicker of an answering warmth. 

Nomi touches Riley's head as she passes the couch and then she lifts Will's head and cradles it in her lap. She radiates warmth outwards; Riley comes to think of her as being like the sun. She brightens the room just by being in it. 

If Kala's here then Wolfgang's here too – Riley understand too well how suddenly they've become inseparable; she can feel that same desperate need in her own bones. It reminds her of a poem that she found in a book in Wolfgang's apartment that seems to sum it all up perfectly.

How there's Orpheus when there's singing.

*

"We have to talk," she says, and his stomach falls away. They are, he thinks, like two sides of the same coin, like light and darkness, sun and moon. She is soft in every way that he has ever forgotten how to be; she is strong in ways that he has never learned. When he looks at her, out of the corner of his eye, he still can't believe how beautiful she is. How she seems to throw off light, even when there's none to reflect.

She's sitting at the foot of the bed. He sits down next to her, his arm pressed against hers.

"So talk," he says, softly.  
He has been learning how to be soft again, whenever he's with her.

"I've been thinking," she says, quietly, "About the…" She frowns, her eyebrows drawn together. "About all of the darkness in you." He would have given anything to have her not there for the last of it, the moment when he emptied that gun into Sergei and proved, once and for all, what a monster he was. He would have given anything to have her not see, to have spared himself the sight of the tears on her face.

"The darkness," he echoes. "Right."

How long has he known, he wonders, about the darkness in him? Since he was a boy, maybe, and watched that car burn? Before that, perhaps. Maybe it was always in him, like a seed. He was never going to grow into anything good - anything that came of him was going to be dark, twisted, clawing. Kala, he knows, is all wet earth and tropical heat; in Kala, good things could grow.

"What I am thinking is... " She says, and then she stops. She turns to look at him. His hands are clasped between his spread thighs and she reaches out, tracing the delicate bones until she unthreads his fingers and lets her take one. She guides it into her lap, holding it between both of hers. "That it's easier to be brave if you don't have to do it on your own."

"Kala, I…" What he wants to tell her is that it will never be different than this. That, when someone is needed to fight, it will always be him and Sun, and he's different from Sun - there's no grace in what he does, no dance. It's all violence and blood. He wants to tell her that fighting is what he does. He wants to tell her that, all his life, he's been waiting for the monster in his blood to eat him whole, bones and all.

Kala shakes her head, threads her fingers with his and holds on tight.

"I could no more be without you now than fly in the air," she says, and a smile tugs at the corner of her mouth. "Our paths are linked, Wolfgang - don't you see that? Since that first moment I...saw you."

The wedding. That moment of eye-contact so direct, so intense, that it knocked them both clear off their feet. The world shifted off its axis. Orbits rewritten. Stars realigned.

He sees that. Of course he does. They are an already written story, an odyssey, an edda.

He begins and ends with her.

What can he do then but kiss her? What choice does he have?   
There is an echo of an Indian breeze, dragging a curtain out from the window, ruffling her hair. In Berlin, the rain lashes at the window pane. He draws her in against him, kisses her again.

They move to the bed without either of them having to ask for it. It's not that they can read each other's minds - there's no need for that. Sensate, tey exist within a single heartbeat. There can't be any secrets between them anymore.

He strips Kala of her clothes carefully, reverently, treating every inch of her with the worship that she deserves. Kala knows about worship, talks to her Lord Ganesha and believes that she hears his words, but Wolfgang was never made for prayer. He's starting to think that, maybe, he understands. The closest he's ever felt to God is when he settles between her thighs and moves inside her. The closest he's ever felt to worthy of heaven is when he loses himself in her.

Afterwards, she cradles him in the darkness, his head against her shoulder, she foretells the future. There will be children, she tells him, a boy and a girl at least, and they will be good, these children, and they will loved. They will do great things, this boy and this girl, named for a God and a girl who knew how to move between one world and the other. They will do great things, even if nobody but their parents ever knows that they are alive.

_Seeds_ , he thinks. _More life_.  
Perhaps for the first time, lying in Kala's arms with Will and Riley sleeping in his spare room, Wolfgang can begin to see how that could be done.


End file.
